


She's Just a Guilty Pleasure

by robinasnyder



Category: The Tomorrow People (2013)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:11:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinasnyder/pseuds/robinasnyder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jedikiah keeps a lot of secrets. He lies sometimes just for practice and no one ever gets all of him, not even Ultra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She's Just a Guilty Pleasure

She wasn’t just his guilty pleasure. A guilty pleasure was eating one too many pieces of chocolate, or pretending like you don’t love a teeny bopper’s song when it comes on the radio because you’re too much of a man. 

So no, Morgan wasn’t a guilty pleasure. 

She was what was going to get him fired. She was what was going to get him killed. A flash of teeth, a little tug with her abilities and she’d have him undressed and pinned to the mattress or the wall or the floor or whatever surface she wanted without ever having to touch him. And sometimes he wouldn’t being the one doing the undressing. 

It should have been an easy infatuation. 

He was supposed to be the one pressing her against a wall, kissing her, taking what he wanted. With permission. But she’d flash a smile a little giggle and he was gone. She’d press him against the door of the room he had her stashed away in. She’d kiss him, start nibbling on his lower lip and go all the way down. 

They’d lay together tangled in sheets and he’d grumble mentally about Homo Superiors and their tricks until her laughter filled in room and he’d smile into the pillow despite himself. 

He’d say the worst most speciesest vitriol and she’d smile and play with his tie, wherever it happened to be or whatever happened to be left of it. As he watched his tie float across the room and play act at being a serpent he wished that she would argue with him. She never argued with him about his beliefs. Maybe she’d bite harder when he made her angry but she never argued and he wished she would, just once, defend herself. 

“Is Sampson going to let me cut his hair today” she’d tease. 

“I’m afraid I’ve hidden the scissors,” he’d respond. Or he’d pick some similar line. She’d stroke his head until he melted. For all that he poked and prodded her, told her horror stories and threats his biggest fear was always that she would make him act on his words. 

Because when he was honest with himself, for all his talk of fidelity, he doesn’t actually know what he’ll do. 

He can picture her powerless and locked up in one of the seventeen sub basements. He can picture being the one to press the syringe into her neck. He thought about it often. She would look at him for a while, after she’d struggle because she would struggle. But when she realized what would happen she would turn her head and stare at his reflection in whatever surface she could find. Hell, she might even request a mirror so she could watch him do it. And he’d give it to her. He could picture doing it. He could feel her begin to convulse. It was exactly fixed in his mind as if it were a vision of a future to come. But he’s not certain he wants to stomach the reality. 

He tells her that their little arrangement is for her sake. But it wouldn’t exist if it was. He likes her happy sarcasm. He likes her abusing her abilities to turn his suit jacket into a giant bow just because she knows it pisses him off. He likes her using her abilities to shove him to his knees until he has to ask her (he never begs) to be able to get up or touch her or something. 

He doesn’t want her to be one more shell he’s created. He doesn’t want her to be normal, powerless, or worst of all human. 

That’s what he thinks when she’s asleep and it’s safe to think those thoughts, in a room he’s bought for her sheltered from everyone else who might discover the mistakes he’s already made and plans to willfully keep making. 

She was what was going to get him killed. He was smart enough to that. So her buries his fingers into her hair and give her a little more of himself. After all, what did it matter? He was a dead man anyway.


End file.
